you're at the middle pole, taking command and full control of the situation at the place whose name speaks of vague, unverified fragments of memories- that possibility of experiencing the what-could-have-beens, that possibility of experiencing again things that seemed to happen before.
allow me call you valerie- a name that sounds close to your stage name. i'd make myself believe that it's the actual name you use during the day.
the contact of your skin with mine awakened an opposite reaction contrary to your world’s preconceived notions of how i should react. i was relaxed.
the smooth curves of your moisturized skin relaxed my post day-job nerves.
but don’t get me wrong.
you aroused me.
you aroused a memory from the distant past that became a key to our quick-lived connection.
i chose you from the pack because you look like the ex. your thin and slender physique, your small lips, your probing eyes. you kinda looked like taylor swift bathed under the flickering amber and purple lights.
when i told you how i fancy your scent, i am not referring to your generic fruity smell. yes, there is no point denying that you and your colleagues exude a collective strawberry smell, but i am actually referring to your sweat, your pheromones, your breath. you somehow smell like the past. only in a different,evolved, caucasian form.
it’s an amazing experience how you transported me back in time when you pressed the small hills of your bosom to my face.
you brought me back during those days when i would relax and watch legally blonde next to that person who have memorized each line of the movie and who also dreams to be a lawyer like elle woods.
you girated, danced and explored my fully clothed body with your skin.
strawberry flavor enveloped me.
you asked if i just came from school.
i said i just came from work.
you continued your work.
out of the blue you asked for my birthday. for what seemed to be a split second of pure innocence, i think i saw among the myriad of dim red, yellow and purple lights a spark of hope for a genuine non-carnal connection.
june. i said.
mine's august. you said.
lie back you told me. you went back to work.
the pair of your firm butt cheeks moved frantically out of synch with the dj’s music in search for my member who has long been swollen but hidden somewhere in between the valleys of my legs. i was afraid to move. i was too relaxed to move. i let you do your work.
for the whole ten minutes, we spoke about work, your job, how the system works, your filipina co-worker, and our similarity in age and how we should be hotter as we time takes its toll on us.
you are brave. yes,like the past. but unlike that past who has long chosen to expose herself to the blinding lights of the morning to serve the people, you chose to serve a few. you work under the moon and make few people feel special for 20 bucks in more or less ten minutes. i will remember you. you're a first- like that distant memory from the past who was also a first in many things. from then on, i will call you valerie, the girl who conquered the poles.